


Grimm Tidings

by ValiantBarnes (Cimila)



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Biting, Blood Kink, Blood and Violence, Feral Behavior, M/M, Non-Human Genitalia, Rough Sex, Roughhousing, partially
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:53:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28408035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cimila/pseuds/ValiantBarnes
Summary: Karakura Town is weird. Ichigo knows this very well, secrets curled up in all corners of it, supernatural creatures strolling the streets without care, happy enough to keep the peace. Mostly.Strangers in this strange land are obvious - and rare. This one sticks out more than most, bright white outfit, blue hair, lurking in an alleyway like everything Ichigo didn't know he wanted.
Relationships: Grimmjow Jaegerjaques/Kurosaki Ichigo
Comments: 18
Kudos: 162
Collections: GrimmIchi Secret Santa 2020





	Grimm Tidings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ArisuAmiChan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArisuAmiChan/gifts).



> Market research! I said, as I read through all of ArisuAmiChan's bookmarks. And yes, I did almost forget to post this. I am a joke. (Also this would have been up an hour and a half a go but like. What the fuck is a title and why do i need one.)
> 
> That said, I hope you enjoy this ArisuAmiChan!!! Happy almost New Year for the gregorian calendar!

Blue hair, blue eyes; a white jacket that’s like a beacon for Ichigo’s eyes in the gloom of Karakura Town just after sunset. He looks like bad news but then, people say that about Ichigo, too. He’s new in town, a rarity considering how out of the way Karakura is. They do get visitors, every now and again. Sometimes they’re even human. Ichigo isn’t sure whether this one is, not that it particularly matters. Newcomers don’t stay long, Karakura nothing but a stepping stone to bigger, better places. 

The man’s not wearing a shirt under his bright white coat, a broad stripe of muscular chest on display. Ichigo doesn’t stare for long, not more than a handful of seconds, but those sharp blue eyes flicker over to him. Heightened senses or bad luck, Ichigo doesn’t know. He should look away but something stops him. He doesn’t know whether it’s actual instinct - something not that deep inside telling him the other man’s dangerous, a predator, not someone to take his eyes off - or if it’s just because he hasn’t been with anyone since his relationship with Orihime peacefully dissolved a year ago and the man who’s now smirking at him is gorgeous.

There aren’t any street lights in the narrow alley, though they’re flicking on one by one on the street behind Ichigo. There’s a small, sensible voice in his head that’s telling him he doesn’t need to take this short cut. Going all the way around wouldn’t add more than five minutes to his trip home. But it was a long shift at the clinic and all Ichigo wants is to be inside his apartment already, throw himself on the couch and vegetate for a while. He’s tired. Ready to sleep. 

He feels wired, staring at this stranger, curiosity burning in his mind, wondering if the other man might like it as rough as Ichigo.

Ichigo takes a step into the alley, then another one. Casual. They’re just two people - not two humans, though maybe the other man is. Hard to tell in the quickly growing dark, with Ichigo firmly in his human skin. This isn’t going to turn into anything, ships in the night and all that. The man’s a stranger, after all, and Ichigo’s long since learnt his lesson about strangers in a place like Karakura, where secrets and supernatural things walk in plain sight.

More than that, he’s a _stranger._ Strangers don’t stick around, not here. That might be a draw for some people but Ichigo’s not one of them. Relationships, commitment, permanency. He doesn’t know if it’s a by product of what he is or if he’d be the same if he were baseline human. Humans get like that, sometimes. On the other hand, the want for a life partner, a _mate,_ seems perfectly suited to the possessiveness and territorial nature he can’t quite help, like he’s some kind of animal.

“My lucky night,” the man chuffs to himself, starting to saunter towards Ichigo. With his hands deep in his pockets, his chin tilted up arrogantly and that rolling, predatory gait, it should have been a giant, neon sign telling Ichigo to keep walking. Ignore the man, step around him, go home and forget the very sight of him. Maybe go home, masturbate, and _then_ forget the sight of him.

He comes to a stop instead, just about eye to eye with the man. They’re standing too close together, close enough that Ichigo could lean in and steal a kiss. Bite down and draw blood from that plush lower lip. Conflicting urges but they stem from the same place, from the instincts he’s still struggling with, almost a decade after a second, inhuman puberty hit him like a freight train.

“What type of luck are you looking for?” He asks, letting his eyes very obvious drop down to rest at the lips so near his own. A blue eyebrow quirks, smirk somehow deepening. 

“Heard I could find a good fight here.” This close, Ichigo can see that his mouth is full of razor sharp teeth. Might still be human adjacent rather than wearing human skin but Ichigo wouldn’t put much money on it. Maybe it’s better that he won’t be staying. In Ichigo’s experience, things with teeth like that - made with little purpose other than violence - have a tendency to use them.

He would know.

“Not today,” Ichigo deflects instead of lying. There are more creatures that can sniff out a lie than those who can’t and there _have_ been some good fights around Karakura. Mostly involving Ichigo, recently. Then again, maybe the man’s looking for Kenpachi and his rampaging hoard of oni, spirits, yōkai and seraphim. They fight each other up and down the mountain most days, accidentally demolishing the edges of Karakura every now and again. They’ve also been hounding Ichigo for a rematch recently, as though he has the time. The phrase shift work doesn’t hold much weight for beings who have no need of money.

At least they’re not stupid enough to break stuff in the clinic, not after that first time.

“Ya sure? Smell like you might be a good fight, half’n’half.” The shark toothed grin the sentence is delivered with makes Ichigo certain it’s meant as a taunt, a provocation. If they weren’t standing almost in the middle of town, Ichigo might even take him up on it. If the man in front of him can do as much damage in human shape as Ichigo himself, they could very well level the entire block and barely notice. So, despite the temptation, Ichigo doesn’t take the bait. Later, maybe, when the man’s already pointed towards wherever he’s headed next. Feet in the desert or on the foothills, somewhere human lives won’t be endangered.

“What about a good fuck?” Ichigo asks, wondering if it’d be too forward to nip at the sharp jaw in front of him. Drag his teeth across the skin, push the other man up against the wall and see if he can match Ichigo strength for strength, bite for bite. 

“I’d tear you to fuckin’ pieces,” the other man’s voice comes out more growl than anything else, deep enough to vibrate through Ichigo’s chest. It feels good, like when he and Renji tried it for a couple of months. Something bestial resonating in the air between them. He wonders if that’s what they meant, when his supernatural friends talked about the nebulous ‘it’ that’d supposedly happen one day. They all say it the same way, like they know something Ichigo doesn’t. They probably do. Not like there’s a crash course Ichigo got to take, letting him know what the hell a post-puberty nephilim should be doing with his life. Not like Isshin ever tells him anything, despite being the ‘ex’-angel that caused the whole nephilim thing in the first place.

The human half of his friend group don’t tell him that ‘it’ll happen when it happens.’ They tell him he should put himself out there, try and date, have one night stands, broaden his horizons. He thinks they probably meant speed dating or blind dates, not pressing himself chest to chest with a non-human stranger in an almost pitch black alleyway.

“Try,” Ichigo goads, jumping out of the way of the hands that reach for him. No one ever expects him to be as fast as he is, even in his human form.

“A bit predictable there, uh, sorry. What’s your name? I’m Ichigo.”

“Grimmjow. You’ll be screaming it later.”

“Wow. That’s a cliché. Sure you’re not being overconfident? Overcompensating?” Ichigo asks, shifting his weight, ready to dodge at the slightest provocation. Grimmjow doesn’t lunge for him again, just grins in a way that makes him look positively feral. What Ichigo had thought was make up around his eyes shifts slightly, starting to turn jagged. Ichigo wonders what he looks like without the human skin; wonders if it’d be a match for Ichigo’s own monstrous visage.

“Just for that, I’m gonna make ya beg for it.” Grimmjow shifts to the side, leaving just enough room for Ichigo to squeeze by, if he wanted to run the gauntlet. 

“Your place is this way, yeah? Lead the way, if you think you can pull the same trick twice.” Ichigo laughs, head thrown back. He can feel those bright eyes tracing over the vulnerable column of his throat, smirks when he finally stops laughing. It’s a win-win situation. Either he runs forward and finds himself trapped in those muscular arms and likely fucked rough and just right against the brick or he runs and escapes. He can evade, run and hide, make Grimmjow chase him, make him work for it, _prove himself._ Get him on Ichigo’s territory and see how confident he is then.

The thrill of the chase is already singing through his body. He doesn’t even consider taking the long way home, throwing himself forward with all his considerable speed, despite Grimmjow watching, waiting. He manages to slip by, just. Claws shear through his messenger bag strap and shirt but not his flesh. Then he’s out of the alley, Grimmjow’s dark laughter chasing him as they run through the night.

  
  


Karakura Town is more or less in the middle of nowhere, bracketed by desert on one side and thickly forested mountains on the other. Like every other weird thing about Karakura, Ichigo spent the majority of his life not noticing how odd the instant and distinct transition between the two biomes was. The boundary between the two is the solitary road in and out of Karakura, black tar laid over old dirt and cobblestone, stretching to the horizon in both directions. Apparently most places have more of a crossover, foothills turning to scrubland to desert or something. 

Here it’s just the road. Thick forest crowd right up against the road on one side, almost jagged foothills rising to the east of Karakura. On the other, desert plains stretch out, sand spilling carelessly onto one half of the road, dunes rising high and picturesque in the distance. 

Tourists in Karakura are rare and usually non-human, coming in via the desert or the forest rather than from the road. Ichigo’s pretty sure he can count on both hands the number of times he’s seen someone actually _drive_ in to town. Ichigo knows it’s got to do with the amount of supernatural shit that lives in and around Karakura; the ridiculous bullshit they sometimes get up to. You’d think beings sometimes multiple millennia old would have some sense of restraint. Absolutely not. Half of them would be offended by the the mere insinuation, hiding coy smiles behind their fans or masks or general air of _I’m a wise elder and definitely didn’t get totally shit faced last night. It was someone else you saw staggering away from the bar._

Most people who live in Karakura proper are human, more or less. Some really _are_ baseline human, though Ichigo couldn’t say if they’re in the majority. Couldn’t say what exactly counts as baseline, either, considering he’d spent fifteen or so years thinking _he_ was baseline human, and he could see ghosts. Apparently, according to Tatsuki and Mizuiro, ‘regular’ humans can’t do that. Even Yuzu can do that, and she’s the most human out of any of the Kurosaki’s, so Ichigo still isn’t quite sure if his friends are trying to trick him or not.

He can see a lot more than ghosts, now. Spirits of all sorts, yōkai, angels, demonic entities, all sorts of weird shit. At least it explains those shops his mother used to take him to, before she died. The ones which hadn’t been there the previous day and would be gone by sunrise, staffed by workers with too sharp smiles and inhuman features. Bird women and oni and bookstore cats with too many tails.

Of course, his mother never told him what she was. He was only nine when she died, after all. Ichigo likes to think that, unlike Isshin, _she_ would have let him know what was actually going on with Karakura before he fell face first into it. Instead the old goat had seen him go through the first stages of puberty without growing horns, wings or extra appendages of any sort and had just assumed that Ichigo was ‘human enough’ and kept his silence. Like an idiot.

And still, Ichigo only knows that he’s mostly nephilim. Mostly. Angel half from Isshin and half… something. Not even Uryu’s dad knows for sure. That asshole had said something about ‘exact lineage’s being kept secret until marriage’, which will never not sound super shady. Leaves Ichigo half in the dark, too, trying to figure out how to deal with instincts he’s never quite able to get a handle on.

The advice from his angel friends helps, sometimes. Makes it worse, sometimes. The disconnect leaves him feeling adrift from everyone, even Karin and Yuzu. Karin’s nothing but nephilim and Yuzu’s almost baseline human; useful advice practically rains down on them when they have trouble with something. Ichigo’s not bitter about it - he wouldn’t want it reversed, with either of them going through what he’s spent years suffering. 

He’s just spent _so long_ restraining himself, keeping too sharp teeth human blunt, keeping his touch gentle enough, edges dulled. Not just with the humans, either. He could go all out at first, when he was just figuring how to expand from human skin without tearing himself to shreds. When his wings were first coming in, when they all thought he was just nephilim. But then he kept growing, kept changing, bone and vicious teeth and enough aggression to put all of Karakura Town in serious danger before he found a way to manage it.

Whatever the fuck he is, he wasn’t made for soft things, for kindness. Every bit of calm he has, his easy bedside manner at the clinic, he learnt every bit of it the hard way. Just because he was born into a body that sometimes feels more weapon than anything else, doesn’t mean he’s destined for nothing but battle. For violence and warfare, neverending. Ichigo has spent years bettering himself, coming to terms with himself. Becoming a man he’s proud of, a son his mother would be proud of. 

Sometimes, though, all Ichigo wants is to give in to the base urges he has. He’s spent years holding himself back, being the person he wants to be not the beast his instincts push him towards.

Blood on his tongue tastes so sweet, after so long

Ichigo doesn’t go down without a fight, can’t, not to someone who’s just as much of a beast as he is. Grimmjow stalks him like he’s never wanted anything else in his life, delighting in it. Half play, half bloodlust strong enough that Ichigo can scent it on the wind. It comes to a head as Ichigo jumps up to his balcony from a nearby roof, tackled midair. Claws sink deep into him, making sure he can’t slip from Grimmjow’s grip. The glass of the balcony door shatters beneath their weight, turning the wooden floor of Ichigo’s loungeroom into a glittering hazard.

He doesn’t have time to be annoyed at how much that’ll cost to replace, Grimmjow already trying to pin him to the ground, face down ass up so he can fuck him like he’s earnt it. _Almost,_ Ichigo thinks, letting Grimmjow’s claws take a chunk of flesh as he twists enough to slam his knee into the other man’s side hard enough to wind him. What’s a chase compared to a fight?

How is Ichigo supposed to let his guard down enough if he doesn’t know how Grimmjow fights, how he defends; how prepared he is to keep them both safe while Ichigo lets himself be taken, pinned and spread, delightfully helpless. 

Grimmjow doesn’t crumple from the hard blow, though most do. Barely flinches, breathes through it. Ichigo receives a headbutt in return, twists out of the way enough so that Grimmjow’s forehead glances off his cheek instead of breaking his nose. One of Ichigo’s sharp elbows connects with Grimmjow’s inner arm, collapsing his attempt at a collar tie, splattering blood over the wood and glass. His human form is slipping. He won’t shed it entirely, not with the low ceilings in his flat, but he can loosen it a bit. Sharper around the edges, teeth made to rend and tear.

He sinks no longer blunt teeth into the shoulder hovering by his face as they grapple on the floor. Grimmjow howls, loud and shocked, but his hips manage to slide their way between Ichigo’s legs and he’s hard, despite the pain. Because of it, maybe. Grinds himself against Ichigo who's equally stirred by the chase, the fight, the blood.

“Again,” Grimmjow husks before his own teeth sink into Ichigo’s neck, tearing through muscle in a way that is unmistakably painful. Ichigo’s always had his wires crossed, though. Pain is pain, it hurts, it aches, it makes him feel so good. The brutality of it has him shuddering, rutting up into Grimmjow, hooking his legs around narrow hips instead of delivering more blows to the other man’s unprotected torso. He moans as Grimmjow rips his teeth free, blood smeared over his lips and chin as he tilts his head enough to kiss Ichigo.

It’s filthy, blood and saliva shared between them, open mouthed and moaning as they rut on the floor like animals. Grimmjow grabs Ichigo by the hips, holds him in place as he fucks against him in short, quick thrusts that have Ichigo wishing they were naked already. His determination to make Grimmjow prove himself slides away. He doesn’t need a brawl, he needs a fuck, now, immediately. Besides, they’re in Ichigo’s territory. All of Karakura knows him, none would dare attack him here, not seriously. And if any of his friends decide to barge in on him, they deserve the eyeful they get.

Grimmjow doesn’t need to be powerful enough to protect them; Ichigo can do it just fine.

Ichigo pushes at Grimmjow’s jacket, no longer pristine white, and the man pulls away, leaning back on his heels as he throws the jacket to the floor. 

“That’s it?” He asks, “thought you were gonna make me work for it, half’n’half. Guess you’re just easy,” Grimmjow grins, wincing slightly when Ichigo snaps his knee up again, hard enough that he can feel something in Grimmjow’s chest give way. Just arib or two, he’ll be fine. Already there’s only old blood on his neck, wound underneath healed back to perfect skin.

“Don’t need to. Anything happens, I’ll fight for us.”

Grimmjow looks shocked, smirks and shark grins lost completely as he stares down at Ichigo. He blinks, once, his brow starting to furrow.

“Are you - you’re fucken serious.”

“Yeah. So fuck me already.” Grimmjow opens his mouth a few times, clearly trying to formulate words but finding his vocabulary falling short. Ichigo understands the feeling; trying to explain his worse instincts to anyone feels the same. Bone deep knowledge doesn’t always have a verbal counterpart.

“You’re so strong,” Grimmjow starts, eyes narrowing dangerously, “why you letting me fuck ya? Don’t you wanna dominate me?” Ichigo shrugs, sitting up enough to pull his hoodie and scrub top off. He throws them away, lets his torso fall back to the floor, barely feeling the bite of broken glass. 

“Sure. Can’t wait to see you take me. You look flexible. I think you’re gonna yowl like a bitch in heat when I fuck you open with your knees up past your shoulders. Over my shoulders, maybe. Later, though. After this.”

“Huh.” Grimmjow says, head tilting to the side, clearly thinking. “Don’t know if that’s different cultures or different instincts. Don’t care, either.”

Ichigo process this for a minute, squinting up at Grimmjow. He’s silhouetted by the ambient light streaming in past his half torn down curtains, broad shouldered and beautiful. 

“Wait, does this mean you don’t switch? Don’t bottom as well as top,” Ichigo clarifies when the word ‘switch’ doesn’t do anything but make Grimmjow frown once more.

“No. Anyone stupid enough to try died screaming. In the bad way,” he clarifies, as though Ichigo couldn’t figure that out via context. Grimmjow leans down once more, his still hard dick pressing up against Ichigo’s own. It makes Ichigo ache for something more, immediately less concerned about whatever Grimmjow’s hang ups about getting fucked are. 

“But you,” Grimmjow says, voice low and spoken right into Ichigo’s ear, “maybe I won’t pull Pantera, if you try.” Ichigo doesn’t know what Pantera is, doesn’t care. Grimmjow’s teeth scrap the sensitive skin behind his ear, breath ghosting over the skin. Ichigo shivers, tilts his head to give Grimmjow more access, but the blue haired fucker moves back again.

“Pin me and you can have me,” He promises, rolling his hips against Ichigo’s. If he has any doubt about saying that, any reservations, Ichigo can’t see them. He’ll have to remember to double check, later. When he’s got Grimmjow pinned and in his bed, teeth at his throat, ready and open beneath him.

“But first,” Grimmjow says, unbuckling his belt is lieu of finishing his sentence. Ichigo fully agrees, crossing his legs behind Grimmjow’s back in order to toe off his joggers with much difficulty. The other man decides to capitalise on Ichigo being pressed right up against him once more. He rolls their hips together in a slow grind, grips Ichigo’s thighs slightly too hard, claws digging in. Ichigo isn’t surprised when his scrubs and underwear are sacrificed, fabric tearing easily beneath Grimmjow’s strength and sharp fingers. Scraps of fabric join the glass, unsalvagable.

Ichigo places his feet on the floor, rocking his hips back and forth against Grimmjow’s still clothed dick. Ichigo groans in frustration, pushing fingers into his own mouth. Lube’s all the way in the bedroom cause the one time he stashed some in the loungeroom, Karin sniffed it out within five minutes of visiting and he’s still kind of embarrassed by the memory. He has little care for himself when he shoves two fingers in, digits just slick enough, saliva thicker and more viscous than a human’s. 

Grimmjow’s eyes are fixed on where his fingers are fucking in and out, pushing Ichigo’s thighs further apart to get a better view. Grimmjow spits on him, saliva sliding down his perineum to his hole, smirking when Ichigo shivers and snaps his teeth at the sensation. He swipes his fingers through it anyway, knowing he’ll be grateful for the extra slick when Grimmjow enters him. He feels big enough that Ichigo thinks maybe he should put this on hold and grab some proper lube. Maybe they could move this to the bed and not fuck on broken glass. 

He’s not sure he’d get two steps before Grimmjow had him pinned again, growling and feral. 

That is not a disincentive. ...That’s _really_ not a disincentive. Shit.

Ichigo pulls his fingers out slowly, circling his rim, pulling on it slightly, giving Grimmjow a show. Grimmjow, distracted, has let one hand fall off Ichigo’s thigh in order to palm himself through his pants. A mistake. Ichigo’s knee cracks against his temple, sending him reeling back, a dazed expression on his face for a moment. A moment is all Ichigo needs, scrambling up and racing for his bedroom. His socks slides against the floor, glass crunching underfoot, the remnants of his pants fluttering as he runs.

He gets half a step before Grimmjow’s snarl echoes through the apartment, loud enough to rattle the windows. Ichigo jumps over the arm that snaps out to catch his foot, grateful that his apartment’s only small. He’s at his bedroom door before Grimmjow can catch him, though the man’s barely a second behind. Grimmjow tackles him to the floor even though his bed is _right there._ Ichigo’s pinned before he can struggle, not that he was planning to. One arm behind his back, hand pushed up towards his shoulder in a hammerlock. If he moves too much, his shoulder will dislocate, maybe his wrist and elbow, too. Teeth scrape against Ichigo’s nape, inefficient as a threat. 

Ichigo wants him to bite down. Wants to be bitten, marked, claimed.

“You tryna run, half’n’half? Maybe you want me to beat you down first, after all.” Grimmjow’s voice has goosebumps rising all over Ichigo’s body, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end. The pure menace in it is electrifying. The feel of Grimmjow pushing his own pants down, hard dick finally smearing pre-come directly over Ichigo’s skin has him moaning, tilting his hips in an attempt to get Grimmjow where he wants him most. 

“Lube,” Ichigo explains, shifting his legs further apart to give Grimmjow more room. “Need more than spit to take you.”

“...Shoulda said,” Grimmjow grunts. His teeth disappear behind soft lips, a brief kiss pressed to his neck instead of the harsh bite Ichigo had hoped for.

“I like you rough,” Ichigo admits, though he doesn’t think it’s anything close to a surprise.

“Don’t gotta worry ‘bout that, _Ichigo,”_ Grimmjow finally says his name, breathes it right against his skin. He fits himself right up against Ichigo, leaking tip pressed against Ichigo’s partially stretched hole like he’s gonna fuck right in, too dry and painful. Ichigo shudders in anticipation, relaxes as much as he can, lets his forehead thunk to the floor. Grimmjow’s laugh rolls over him, wild and loud, before the man moves away. Lets him go. 

It's Ichigo who snarls, this time, stung by the sudden, unanticipated denial. He has a second where he’s twisted up inside, wondering what he did wrong, worried that he gave in too easily, should have fought better, harder, proven his own worth - and then he feels especially stupid, looking up to see Grimmjow reaching for his bedside table and the lube it hides. There’s only one draw to it and it isn’t long before Grimmjow’s back where he should be, pressed right up against Ichigo. Blunt, no longer clawed fingers trail over his lower back, slick and tantalising. He follows Ichigo’s lead, two long fingers sliding in with little resistance, and it’s not long before Ichigo’s moaning underneath him, fucking himself on Grimmjow’s fingers. A third, a fourth, brief but regular sparks shooting through him as Grimmjow brushes against his prostate. 

“Thought you were gonna be rough,” Ichigo pants, tilting his head until he can glower over his shoulder at Grimmjow who sends him a cocky smirk. He feels so wet and open that he could probably take Grimmjow’s fist easily enough. If he’d had any time to think about it, Ichigo would have assumed Grimmjow to be exactly the sort of jackass to want to fuck him loose rather than prepare him so well.

“Gonna fuck you til you pass out. Can’t do that if I break you first.”

Grimmjow presses his thumb against Ichigo’s rim, rubs the stretched taught skin, before he finally pulls out. Lube slick fingers turn clawed once more as they grab his arm again, force his hand back up towards his shoulder. They pierce his skin easily, same as the other hand, sinking into the meat of his hip, holding him exactly where Grimmjow wants him as he fucks in, deep and unrelenting. Ichigo chokes out a shocked breath, stunned little whine escaping him.

 _Cat,_ he thinks suddenly, desperately, free hand clawing at the floor, some sort of cat demon, spikes or spines or _something,_ hard and unyielding against the softest parts of him. Ichigo can’t help the soft, hitching half sobs he makes, overwhelmed immediately by the sensation. Grimmjow doesn’t let him squirm away, keeps him in place with sharp claws and a deep, base purr. Fucks him through the shock of it, the surprise. Long, smooth thrusts, scraping against his prostate with each time. Every thrust has Ichigo feeling like he’s impaled, as though Grimmjow is further in him than anyone else has ever been.

Between the hammerlock, the claws anchored into his hip and Grimmjow’s inhuman dick spearing him open, Ichigo feels pinned in a way that’s completely foreign. He can barely move, can’t quite find the strength for it, the motivation, breaths short and sharp. He can’t stop clenching around Grimmjow, feeling each inhuman barb pressing hard against him, dragging across his inner walls ruthlessly. Grimmjow gives him no quarter, no time to adjust, keeps his steady rhythm while Ichigo writhes through the shocks ricocheting through his body.

“Like that?” Grimmjow asks, purr dropping off, leaning forward to bite the question into Ichigo’s shoulders, forcing Ichigo’s arm up higher, more strain on his shoulder. It takes Ichigo a few tries to form actual words, every breath fucked out of him before he can use it.

“G... _good,”_ he slurs, “‘S g- ah!”

Grimmjow huffs a laugh, teeth sinking in enough to draw blood this time. He releases Ichigo’s arm and Ichigo moans at the sensation, stressed shoulder suddenly able to relax, blood rushing through the entire limb. Ichigo reaches up to curl his hand around Grimmjow’s neck, keeping his mouth pressed against Ichigo's shoulders. Grimmjow obliges him, sucking bruises into his skin and tearing through the flesh with his teeth, each injury healing faster and faster as Ichigo lets himself go bit by bit under Grimmjow’s onslaught.

“Fast,” Ichigo urges, fingers sharp and digging into the back of Grimmjow’s neck, _“Grimm-”_

Grimmjow snaps his hips faster, each thrust the best sort of torture, the sound of his dick sliding in and out of Ichigo obscene. His mouth is pressed to the side of Ichigo’s face now, panting directly against his skin, close enough to hear each one of Ichigo’s little fucked out moans. He’s close, he’s so close, Grimmjow’s weird, surprise cat dick stripping him of his usual stamina. Ichigo doesn’t reach for his dick, hard and leaking, both hands too busy clinging desperately to whatever’s in front of them; claws splintering into the floor, drawing blood from Grimmjow. He doesn’t need the extra stimulation, not with Grimmjow’s constant abuse of his prostate.

 _“Ichigo,”_ Grimmjow pants, lips smearing against his skin, and Ichigo comes with a shout, orgasm intense enough his vision whites out for a moment. Grimmjow fucks him through it, groaning deep in his throat at the sudden tight clench of Ichigo around him. He slows down, eventually, once Ichigo’s shaking beneath him, legs trembling. They stay there like that for a few minutes, Ichigo catching his breath, Grimmjow licking at the blood covering his shoulders, the back of his neck. 

“Hope you’re not done yet, half’n’half,” Grimmjow rumbles, shifting slightly, making Ichigo suddenly very aware of the dick still hard inside of him, “cause I’m just getting started.”

Ichigo whines, twitching around Grimmjow at the thought. The other man doesn’t move his hips, doesn’t start fucking him immediately, just keeps licking across his skin, lazily grooming Ichigo. He’s already edging into overstimulated, getting to the point where he’d usually switch. Grimmjow’s earlier promise is still on the table and Ichigo does plan to get to it, before the sun rises - but that’s a long way away.

He spreads his legs further, pulling his hand away from Grimmjow’s neck in order to brace himself properly. Ichigo can feel Grimmjow’s grin against his skin, hear his pleasure through the quiet purr that’s suddenly audible. Grimmjow straightens up, no longer resting all his weigh on Ichigo. One hand comes to rest on Ichigo’s lower back, pressing down hard. Ichigo moves as he’s directed, punched out sound leaving him at the new angle, everything suddenly feeling sharper. He is going to _ache_ tomorrow, even with how fast he heals.

“Beg me for it, half’n’half,” Grimmjow’s grinning, Ichigo just knows. Every terrifying tooth on display, half smile half challenge.

“Make me, cat-boy,” Ichigo returns the taunt, his laughter at Grimmjow’s offended scoff ringing through the room.

“Oh, you’ll _regret_ that, pretty boy.”

Ichigo - and he cannot emphasise this enough - regrets nothing.

**Author's Note:**

> spoiler alert: Grimmjow is not just passing through Karakura Town. Boy, is Ichigo in for a surprise.


End file.
